


I’m not here to make friends (but maybe a girlfriend)

by SapphicScholar



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Bachelorette AU, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Misunderstandings, Sanvers - Freeform, Slow Burn, Some angst, bachelorette!Maggie, celebrity/bodyguard AU, lots of fluff, surfer!alex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 03:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15110516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphicScholar/pseuds/SapphicScholar
Summary: When Alex Danvers gets assigned as personal security for the star of the new lesbian bachelorette reality television show, the last thing she expects is to enjoy even a minute of it. When Maggie Sawyer winds up the newest bachelorette thanks to her colleagues, she’s not dumb enough to think she’ll actually fall in love on the show. But over their weeks together, they just might find the unexpected.





	I’m not here to make friends (but maybe a girlfriend)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lurkz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurkz/gifts).



> A/N: Warning for an instance of threatened/attempted violence
> 
> And thanks to @performativezippers for the delightful first half of the title and to @bathtimefunduck for suggesting the Bachelorette. And most importantly HAPPY BIRTHDAY @lurkz!! Hope you have a great day and enjoy this unreasonably long one-shot

Alex ran a finger over the cool metal of the gun tucked into its holster, letting the familiar feel of it comfort and ground her as crowds rushed around the room, taking no effort to avoid slamming into her or pushing past her.

Day one. She could do it. Just 49 of them left after this first day ended. J’onn’s reminder to “use these seven weeks as a time to recenter yourself” rang in her ears. She doubted there would be any recentering happening here. He’d insisted it wasn’t a punishment for her diving in front of a spray of bullets on their last job, trusting her Kevlar and her helmet more than she trusted the rookie agents tasked with protecting the Senator’s daughter, but she suspected it was. Why else would she get stuck with some reality television star? It was all glitz and glam and entitlement and everything Alex loathed.

The only good thing was that they were charging the studio a small fortune for the 24/7 private security, so Alex knew she had a decent payout coming at the end of the seven weeks. J’onn had already suggested it might be nice if she used it to take a vacation. They both knew she wouldn’t.

“Danvers!” About goddam time. She’d been up for over 12 hours with almost nothing to do except familiarize herself with the set layout and camera feeds.

Alex lifted her head at the sound of the producer’s grating voice. If she didn’t already hate the woman for all the exploitation that went into making a reality show, she’d hate her for the nails-on-chalkboard tone that had been ringing in her ears since 5 in the morning.

“Time to meet our bachelorette!”

“Kay,” Alex grunted, hefting her bag onto her shoulder and following in Siobhan’s wake out of the maze of trailers and food service trucks into one of the two houses on the property—smaller, but still nicer than anything Alex had ever slept in. Not that she really wanted to be sleeping in it. Though she, at the very least, would be spared the indignity of having surveillance cameras set up to watch her every move. She might have to live in a tiny room down the hallway from the bachelorette’s suite, but J’onn had insisted that his security teams couldn’t do their best work while worrying about moles and plants on the other end of the feeds.

Alex forced herself to listen as Siobhan reviewed the different areas of the house—the gym, the in-house sauna, the kitchen, the dining room, the entertainment room. Honestly, the list was too goddam long for a single person, let alone a person who was only inhabiting the place for a few weeks.

They ended up in some room with a name that Alex suspected meant something to people who watched the damn show.

“And this”—Siobhan announced with a flourish—“is Maggie Sawyer.”

Alex looked her up and down. Short. Attractive, she supposed, but there probably wasn’t anyone who got on a show like this that wasn’t attractive. Plaid button-up. Alex wondered if wardrobe chose it to remind the viewers back home that Maggie was the first ever lesbian bachelorette—like they needed some easy way to make that connection. Of course, even with the tucked-in shirt, she still had skinny jeans tight enough to highlight everything any straight man tuning in would want to see and heeled boots that looked incredibly impractical. Then there was the long hair that had been styled to glossy perfection in the hair and makeup trailer moments before. And sure, okay, Alex could admit it looked pretty. Whatever. But still, a part of her wondered what it would take to have a lesbian bachelorette that looked a little more like her or some of her friends. She unconsciously ran her hands through her wavy hair, the tips of her fingers gliding across the short hair of the undercut she’d gotten a few months after coming out.

“Maggie,” Siobhan continued, “this is Alex Danvers.” Alex gave a nod of her head. “She’ll be providing 24/7 security for you.”

“Because of the threats?” Maggie asked, her lips twitching and features hardening slightly.

“There will always be some threats in show business.” Siobhan waved her hand and smiled broadly as if death threats were laughable. “The girls have their own security as well. I’m sure everything will be fine, but it’s best to protect our bases, hmm?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. I’ll send a PA back in half an hour for both of you. Maggie, you’ll be filming your intro monologue, then we need to get you to wardrobe for an outfit change before the girls show up.”

“Okay.”

Alex narrowed her eyes, wondering how someone so curt possibly got chosen for a show like this one. Then again, she didn’t get paid to ask those questions or care about whether or not some random woman was going to look like an ass on national television.

“Alright,” Alex began, switching to the authoritative tone she found worked best for getting through to people, “in order for me to do my job best, I need you to follow my—”

“I get it,” Maggie interjected.

Alex narrowed her eyes and huffed. “Look, just follow me, we’re doing a tour of the house, looking for weak security points.”

“My entire bedroom.”

“What?”

“The whole thing—floor to ceiling glass windows that I can only hope are bulletproof but definitely leave me visible, which is, I guess, the whole point. Two different egress points—door to the hallway, then one to the bathroom, which also has a door to the sauna, which then opens up down the hallway. And none of the doors lock for easy camera access. It’s a security nightmare.”

“I… What are you doing looking around for things like that?”

“Would you prefer if I acted as ditzy as you clearly think I am?” Maggie shot back.

“Excuse me for not assuming that the woman parading herself around on television for some quick cash and a chance to get laid by a bunch of desperate women is a fucking genius.”

“I’m a detective, Danvers. I know my way around basic security.”

“What?”

“I’m here because I lost a bet.”

Alex folded her arms across her chest. “Bullshit. People audition for years to get on shows like this.”

“Thought you didn’t know anything about it.”

“I can do a basic Wikipedia search.”

“Look, I’m a newly single lesbian who can talk about wanting to date and get back out there and find love or whatever. I’m hot with enough muscles from my job to be able to flex for the cameras but not so much that I’ll make straight people uncomfortable. I’m exactly what they were looking for.”

“You auditioned, though. You didn’t get in because of a bet.”

“No. I let my coworkers make and submit an audition tape for me because I lost a bet.”

Alex continued to glare. “Whatever. We’re still going over the house.”

“How serious are the threats?” Maggie asked, her tone firm as she stepped closer to Alex.

“What?”

“They won’t let me see anything, and I wasn’t even able to use my connections at the precinct to get anything from them. It’s like a fucking black box.”

“They’re…there are quite a few of them.”

“Okay.”

“But a lot of them don’t seem much worse than what shows like this have gotten in the past.”

“A lot…but not all?”

“Not all,” Alex admitted.

“Because of the gay thing?”

“Pretty much. Lots of Bible quotes. Apparently the Westboro nuts are coming to town for one day of filming, though they won’t be able to get too close since this is private property.”

Maggie let out a barking, humorless laugh. “But ‘love wins,’ right?”

Alex felt herself warming up to the woman for a moment before reality came crashing back down around her. “You’re the one that signed up for this. You’re the one that is happy enough to show the world that lesbians can be just as shallow and dumb as everyone else.”

“Oh fuck off, Danvers. Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”

“If you’d let me do my job, I’d be more than happy to only ever talk to you about security.”

“Then go on.”

With a huff, Alex dragged Maggie on a tour of the house, grating her teeth every time Maggie chimed in with some additional point or question that Alex had already noted or was going to answer had Maggie simply stayed silent. 

 _Seven weeks_. She could do seven weeks.

\---

After another excruciating hour or two of waiting, Maggie was finally finished with hair and makeup. Despite Alex’s protests, she had been shooed out of the trailers, made to listen by the door for any screaming, which, Alex had pointed out, probably meant it was already too late.

Alex hated herself for noticing how gorgeous Maggie looked when she stepped back outside, her hair falling in perfectly styled waves, her makeup more dramatic than it had been earlier. But what really caught Alex’s eye was the black suit over a silky white blouse with a plunging v-neck that drew Alex’s gaze lower than she would admit. Maggie nearly came up to Alex’s height with the addition of black stilettoes—the iconic red soles recognizable even from a distance.

“Ready?” Alex asked, motioning to the curling driveway where dozens of cameras were set up to capture the contestants’ arrival from every conceivable angle.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“You signed up for it.”

“Then don’t ask,” Maggie growled, striding forward and leaving Alex rushing to catch up.

Alex felt more at home among the cameramen and the producers scurrying about in worn Converse and faded denim as she settled into place to keep an eye out for any possible threats. She was on high alert with the arriving contestants, especially now that they were closer to the street.

Maggie fed a few scripted lines to the cameras about being both “nervous and excited” about meeting all the women.

Eventually, once the sun had firmly sunk beyond the hilly horizon, two stretch limos pulled into the driveway. Alex found herself shoved out of the way by hordes of people suddenly running to the limo door to get in the perfect position to film the entrance of the contestants. She huffed about how hard they were making it to do her job, earning a loud  _shush_  from one of the men closest to her, who was clutching a boom and holding it high above his head.

After a moment, a parade of beautiful women in ball gowns began pouring out of the limos—one at a time, each one smiling at the camera and greeting Maggie, sometimes presenting her with a little gift that left Alex rolling her eyes, before moving into a semi-circle around her that reminded Alex of some weird sorority-turned-cult meeting. Or a horror move. Maybe both.

A smarmy host emerged then, giving some rundown of the show that Alex didn’t quite care to listen to. Eventually they were shuffling up the driveway and into some outdoor tent with an open bar that Alex learned she was tragically not allowed to enjoy.

“Get ready for a long night,” one of the younger producers whispered to Alex as she passed.

“Isn’t it, like, two or three hours?”

The woman snorted loudly, earning glares from a few of the people around them. “That’s what you’re supposed to think watching it. But nah, we’ll be here til 6, maybe 7 in the morning.”

“What the fuck?”

“Not near the mics!” someone barked at Alex.

“Jess,” the producer whispered, holding her hand out to Alex.

“Alex.”

“I know. Good to have you around. If you’ve got questions, feel free to let me know.”

Alex found a business card being pressed into her hand, then Jess was off in a flurry of movement.

Remembering to step back away from the mics this time, Alex radioed in to the other security team members, double-checking that they had made sure none of the contestants had weapons on them.

“All clear,” Vasquez called back.

Alex paced behind the line of cameras, using a moment’s pause to check in once with Maggie. “You okay? Anyone seem threatening? Do anything to set off any kind of internal alarm?”

“No, just a lot of nervous women.” Maggie tilted her head to the side, considering the question. “And a few drunk ones. But not threatening.”

“Okay.”

And then Alex was being shuffled backward again, while producers herded Maggie into the center of the room and set in for a long night of filming.

\---

Nearly 12 hours and 10 heartbroken dismissed contestants later, Alex was ready to tear her hair out. The number of times she’d reached for her gun, sure there was some kind of threat based on squealing and screaming and crying, was about a hundred times higher than she’d like it to be. Her nerves felt frayed. Her stomach growled loudly at her. And her eyelids felt rough as sandpaper as she tried to blink away the glare of the rising sun.

“That’s a wrap!” Siobhan yelled, her hair and makeup somehow still looking perfect.

Alex swept in and grabbed Maggie, shepherding her back to the separate house that she’d learned during one of the host’s “fascinating” little interludes was apparently a “new addition” this year. She wondered if it had more to do with safety or with trying to keep reminders about non-straight sexuality to a minimum. Not that there wouldn’t be some 15 eligible queer women running around the other house on their own…

Alex did a cursory sweep through the house before letting Maggie go. She was asleep before her head even hit the pillow.

\---

The next week passed by in a haze of early mornings and late nights and craft service coffee that was slightly less awful than the break room’s. There was some truly horrendous invention called a group date where Maggie went out with all of the remaining contestants at the same time, as if to remind them that they were all interchangeable while they competed for the privilege of some “romantic” one-on-one date that wasn’t even remotely personalized based on who won.

Alex watched from a distance as Maggie flirted and charmed her way through the contestants with her stupid prominent dimples and that throaty laugh and a gravelly voice spouting promises that Alex knew she couldn’t keep—probably didn’t even care to try to keep. She looked on as producers whispered to contestants, who went on to badmouth each other on camera or cry on cue or cut in and interrupt an apparently precious one-on-one moment between Maggie and one of the other women. She overheard one of the producers complaining that this season was too “drama-free,” which seemed utterly ridiculous to Alex. The whole thing was rife with drama from the very premise. Maybe they’d expected more catfights or something with all the women together. Perhaps they’d watched a little too much of The L Word, got their hopes set high for some of the promised dyke drama to draw in new viewers.

The only solo date Alex had enjoyed chaperoning—which is precisely how she felt in her role—was some motorcycle ride up in the cliffs with a good view of the beach. Insisting that she needed just as much maneuverability as another motorcycle, Alex was granted permission to trail behind them on a borrowed bike, so long as she stayed far enough back to avoid interfering with the taping. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have sworn she saw Maggie’s gaze raking up and down her and the bike before they set off, but then her attention was focused back on Lana or Lara or something as she guided her onto the back of her Triumph, reassuring her over and over again that it wasn’t scary and she wouldn’t let her get hurt.

Eventually they made it up to the top for a picnic that was supposed to be romantic but seemed to have far too many cameras present for that. Alex ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich from craft services with Jess.

“Ten bucks says they make out before she gets back on the bike,” Jess offered, nudging Alex with her shoulder.

“What? But there are, like, a dozen more of them waiting for her.”

“And?”

“Can she do that?”

Jess laughed darkly. “You were being honest when you said you didn’t watch any reality television, huh?”

Alex shrugged. “Why would I?”

After a moment, Jess tipped her head to the side. “Suppose I don’t watch anything but the shit I make.”

“Why do you do it?”

“Hmm?”

“Why work on this kind of show if you don’t like it?”

“You know how hard it is to break into the entertainment industry?”

“Does getting a job like this one on your resume really help?” Alex shot back.

“Pays the bills.”

Alex grunted in acknowledgment.

“So…you gonna take me up on that bet?”

“Oh. Uh, sure.”

“Because you think she won’t make out with her or because you think more will happen?”

“What?” Alex yelped, earning a glare from Mike, her least favorite cameraman. She lowered her voice when she clarified: “Nothing! That can’t—that wouldn’t happen.”

Jess shook her head as she popped the last bite of her burrito into her mouth. “Come find me when we get to the fantasy suite episodes, yeah? I could use a few more twenties in my pocket.”

“The what?” Alex mumbled, more to herself than to anyone else. As the filming continued, interrupted every ten or so minutes with encouragement to sit closer together or turn slightly so that the sun hit them at the best angles, Alex fished her phone out of her back pocket and looked up the fantasy suite, just barely biting back a gasp. She heard Lucy’s voice echoing in her head telling her to be less judgmental, that Kara was rubbing off on her. But, fine, sure, sex after however many weeks—that was fine. It didn’t have to mean that much. Hell, Alex could get behind it more if it were a one-night stand. But surely when there were four women left racing toward a proposal finish line, it meant  _something_  to them. Surely when they were pledging their love and desire to get married and have some forever with Maggie—surely then it had to involve feelings.

Alex ended up shoving a crumpled ten-dollar bill into Jess’s outstretched hand while Maggie had her Lana/Lara/whatever date pinned up against her motorcycle.

That night she and Maggie actually made it back to the house at what could be called a reasonable hour. “Stay here,” Alex growled, leaving Maggie in the living room once she’d checked the first floor, doing a sweep of the second floor before barking down: “Clear.” The fact that they had plenty of on-the-ground security did little to reassure Alex.

“What’s wrong with you?” Maggie asked, passing a distinctly grumpy-looking Alex on the stairs.

“Nothing’s wrong with me. In fact, I’m pretty fucking normal, I’d say. As are my reactions to this bullshit.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I just”—Alex shook her head, abandoning the line of questioning before it could even start.

“No.” Maggie stepped in front of Alex, her expression guarded and her arms folded over her chest. “If you’ve got a problem with me, say something. Don’t treat me like shit for no reason.”

“Oh I’m the one that treats people like shit? What would you call your behavior on the dates, huh?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve got more than a dozen women who apparently like you and are holding out some hope of a proposal, which in and of itself is fucking absurd, since it’s been, like, a goddam week. And you’re what? Gonna be some player who uses it as an excuse to get laid by the prettiest lesbians television producers could find, then send them home with some shitty condolence speech and a team of body guards to make sure no one can get too mad?”

“It’s literally how this goes, Alex.”

“And you’re okay with it?”

Maggie’s expression didn’t change. “I only get paid if I play by their rules.”

“You had a real job you could have kept.”

“Yeah, a real job with a yearly salary that pays me a fraction of what seven weeks here does.”

“Detective salaries aren’t that low.”

“Yeah? Tell that to my student loan payments. Tell that to my aunt’s medical bills. Tell that to old debt with absurd interest rates that no one fucking warns you about.” Maggie’s voice rose with every word. “I told you on night one not to talk about things you couldn’t possibly hope to understand. So stay the fuck out of it.”

Maggie’s door slammed behind her, and Alex was left simmering with rage and righteous indignation that had started feeling a little less righteous.

\---

After a few days of bitter silence between the two of them and far too much time spent learning about the show’s history from random google rabbit holes and Jess, Alex found herself swiping several plates of dessert and tipping them into a Tupperware she’d shoved into her bag, before going back to stand guard for the rose ceremony. The filming sessions had, blessedly, gotten shorter as the pool of contestants narrowed. These days Alex could expect to be free by 2 or 3 in the morning at the latest, which would have horrified her once but now seemed like a blessing.

Alex sank down into a chair, watching as the cocktail party played out, the remaining women nudging each other out of the way to spend more time chatting with Maggie alone. One or two of them were bold enough to kiss her, their hands slipping lower and lower. Alex wondered whether they’d been told to do it by some of the production assistants, who, she’d learned, were offered cash bonuses on the spot for particular forms of drama and “good television.”

Alex had nearly zoned out before the sounds of a hushed argument broke her out of it, startling her back to attention. She strode over to where Maggie and one of the more aggressive production assistants were fighting, clearing her throat loudly and trying to look as intimidating as she could—a look she’d perfected over years of going toe-to-toe with security guards two and three times her size.

“Something wrong here?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” he grunted back.

“Not asking you. I’m asking her.” Alex dipped her head in Maggie’s direction, though her eyes never left Arnold? Aiden? Andrew?

“Fine,” Maggie sighed, though she didn’t sound particularly fine, so Alex dragged her to the side the moment the producer left.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing you’d want to hear about.”

“What does that mean?”

Maggie glared up at Alex. “It’s about the show. The show you hate. And it’ll all end with you saying, ‘I told you so.’”

“I…er, well, I mean, if you need someone to vent to…”

“It’s nothing. I’m just supposed to cut one girl because she ‘doesn’t make for good television,’ which I’m pretty sure is code for: she’s not as skinny and feminine as everyone else.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. So, there you go. Yet another reason for you to tell me how shitty and fucked up this thing I’m doing is.”

“I…I’m not—”

“Maggie!” Siobhan called.

“Right. See ya round, Danvers.”

Alex watched as Maggie began handing out roses, watched as the cameras clicked off and Maggie was forcibly dragged to the side and sat down and lectured at by Siobhan, watched as she came back out looking beyond frustrated, watched as she gave the last rose to some willowy brunette Alex didn’t think she’d ever seen Maggie have a full conversation with.

Maggie didn’t linger after production ended, turning on her heels and storming back up the hill to her house. Alex caught up after a few strides, though she didn’t try to break the silence until after she’d cleared the house.

“Um, Maggie?”

“Alex,” Maggie sighed, dropping down to one of the couches and rubbing at her temples. “Not now. Please, not now.”

“No, I, um, I grabbed you dessert. I know how long these nights go, and they rarely let you guys be seen eating anything, so…here.” Alex thrust the Tupperware out in front of her, scuffing her shoes across the lacquered hardwood flooring.

“Oh.” Maggie peered into the container. “Thanks.”

“The, um, the cupcakes are vegan. Cause I saw the ice cream they brought for you, and, yeah, just in case. Or whatever.”

The first genuine smile Alex thought she’d ever gotten directed at her pulled up the corners of Maggie’s mouth. “Thank you.” After a moment, Maggie scooted over on the couch. “You, uh, want to join me? Looks like there’s enough to share.”

“Oh.” Alex hesitated for a moment before dropping down next to Maggie, her growling stomach giving her away. “Yeah, that’d be…nice.”

They ate in silence for a while.

“I’m sorry you had to cut the one you liked,” Alex finally whispered.

Maggie shrugged. “Guess when they’re offering you an obscene amount of money, it’s gotta come with strings attached.”

Alex nodded slowly, sinking back into silence as she nibbled around the edge of a cookie until she was left with two gooey center bites.

Once they’d finished the food, Maggie stood up, shaking her head and laughing humorlessly as she took in the expensive clothes as if they weren’t quite part of her. “Thanks for dessert.”

“Yeah—yeah, of course.”

“Night.”

\---

The dessert became a kind of nightly ritual, even on nights when they were both too stuffed to actually eat another bite. Alex told Maggie the truth about any continued threatening letters, and Maggie opened up about how much she hated being on the show, how awful she felt stringing along all these women and how much she loathed the two-on-one dates that had just begun, forcing her to pit two women against each other in real time and decide at the end of the date who got to continue.

It was the day after a particularly vitriolic rant that Maggie dragged Alex down the hall to Alex’s room, talking loudly about security threats and wanting to go over contingency plans.

The moment they were behind the closed door, Maggie slumped to the ground.

“What’s wrong?”

“Apparently one of the little hotshot video guys went and listened to the tapes from my house. Who the fuck knows why. Probably wanted to see if I was jacking off or something.” Alex ignored the way her stomach flip-flopped at that. “Heard me bitching about the show and threatened to give it to Siobhan.”

“Fuck.”

“Your room is the only one without recordings, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ve checked. Need it for security.”

Maggie nodded. “Do you mind if I just…I just need some time off camera.”

And Alex couldn’t help but note how run down and ragged Maggie looked, her eyes bloodshot and her mouth pinched tight. “Of course. Yeah, no, I mean, make yourself at home.”

Maggie sprawled out right there on the floor, and the snort of laughter escaped before Alex could stop it.

“Shut up,” Maggie groaned, but there was a smile tugging at her lips.

“If only your dream dates could see you now.”

“I wish they could.”

“Hmm?”

“I mean, Christ, not one of them has any idea what it would be like to date me. I’m a detective, not some fashion model with an unlimited budget for clothes and free time and shit.”

“Ah, yeah. Well, surely they work too, right?”

“A lot of them, but still. Like, these aren’t even dates I would want to take them on!”

Alex dropped down to the ground next to Maggie, propping her head on her arms and staring up at the ceiling. “What would you wanna do?”

“I don’t know. Like…stupid shit, you know? Ride motorcycles, or go get a drink at some dive bar, or play pool for hours, or go for a run and come back and, you know, make out or whatever in the shower.”

“That doesn’t sound bad to me.”

“Yeah, well, it sounded pretty awful to some of the girls on my dates. They  _like_  the restaurants with entrees I can’t pronounce that give you two or three bites for the cost of my whole paycheck. And they seem to get that I can’t do it all the time, but it’s like—like that’s the kind of thing I should be saving up for, you know?” Maggie let out a huff of air and ran her hands over her face. “And, god, Alex, some of them have so much money. Like we were talking about traveling, and I think for once there’s something we have in common. But Katie—she thought I was joking when I talked about hostels. Like, she literally couldn’t comprehend doing that.”

“Reality television, I suppose,” Alex mused. “But hey”—she turned onto her side to look at Maggie, wiggling her eyebrows and laughing a little—“did you really never dream of finding yourself a sugar mama to take care of you?”

“Shut up,” Maggie laughed, shoving Alex’s shoulder until she rolled onto her back again. “I—I’m comfortable, you know? And yeah, getting the payoff from this show is gonna be amazing. I can pay shit off, and then my salary will be mine. Well, bills and stuff, but nothing extra. But I don’t need millions of dollars. What the hell would I even do with millions of dollars?”

“Keep a house for each of these women who seem ready to pledge their undying love to you,” Alex teased.

“Mm, sure they’d be more than happy to share.”

“Don’t seem to mind when you make out with them all at the end of the night.”

“Look, they’re—it’s fine. It’s just making out. It’s not a big deal.”

“And when you get to the fantasy suite?”

Maggie closed her eyes, breathing in and out through her nose. “I don’t know. I didn’t think—I mean, I’ve never had an issue with sex for sex, you know? But this is like…like sex for feelings when they all think they should be the only one. And it’s weird, and kinda creepy because it’s not even just us—like, it’s broadcasted on national television.”

“Oh my god. They film you?”

“No! No, but, like, they film the door and record sound and shit.”

“Guess no dirty talk, huh?”

“Depends on whether I want a new career after this.” Maggie snorted and flung an arm over her eyes. “You know…if you’d told me that this would be my life when I was just coming out, I’d have thought you were high.”

“Yeah…”

“People cheering for two women to get together?” Maggie swallowed heavily. “Never would have crossed my mind as a possibility.”

Later Alex wouldn’t be able to say why she did it, but Maggie seemed so small, so vulnerable then, and Alex didn’t like seeing her like that. So she reached out a hand, tangling their fingers together. And after a gasp of surprise, she felt the firm weight of Maggie’s hand settle into her own.

\---

For the next week or so, Maggie continued seeing the eight remaining women and taking them on luxurious dates and making out with them at the end of the night. Then she came back, her hair mussed and lipstick stains across her mouth and down her neck and let the cameras film her cleaning up and talking about how great the date du jour was. And then she showed them the door and changed into her real pajamas—not the negligee they had her wear for “bedtime” scenes—and padded down the hallway to Alex’s room for cupcakes and quiet conversation.

Sometimes they sat side-by-side without saying a word. Other times Maggie talked about her day and her dates. Every so often, Alex could be prompted to talk about her own life, slowly opening up about her parents and her sister and her own coming out process. They talked briefly about their exes and their jobs, both of them commiserating about how hard it could be to balance the demands of their careers with the stability of a relationship.

\---

It was during a date at a vineyard that Alex spotted a glint of metal tucked into the waistband of one of the employees serving Maggie and her date samples of some of their finest bottles. It was on his third trip to the table that Alex saw him reach for it.

She was charging before he’d even gotten his fingers wrapped all the way around the handle, tackling him to the ground before he had a chance to react, disarming him and pushing his gun out of reach before the film crew had stopped yelling at her for getting in the way of their shot. Of course, once they realized what was happening, the cameras all swung around to Alex, who yelled: “Would one of you be useful and call 911?”

Maggie ended up being the one to dart forward, grabbing Alex’s phone and handling the call while the cameras tracked her. Alex was half convinced they waited for Maggie to act for the footage alone.

Once the cops arrived—much quicker than Alex had ever seen them show up, and she suspected it had everything to do with the setting and her current employer—and hauled away the would-be attacker, Maggie threw her arms around Alex. “Thank you,” she murmured, too quiet for the mics to pick up on it.

But then the producers were urging Maggie back to her date, giving her advice about comforting her and handing over a handkerchief and ignoring all of Maggie’s requests to cut the cameras.

Once the producers had their footage, Siobhan agreed to give the cast the rest of the evening off, acting like it was some generous gift to them all.

Alex spent the ride back talking to J’onn and debriefing him on the full situation. She did a more thorough vetting of the full property than she had in a while before doing a sweep through the house and finally letting Maggie inside.

“Can I—”

“Of course,” Alex answered before Maggie could even finish her question, gesturing at her bedroom door. “I’ll be right there, okay?”

Alex returned a few minutes later with a pint of the vegan ice cream Maggie had once named as her favorite in hand, plus two spoons. She found Maggie perched on the edge of Alex’s bed, shoes kicked off, arms hugging her legs tight up against her chest.

“How ya doing?”

“Not great,” Maggie admitted.

“Never fun to get shot at.”

“Eh, that I’m used to.”

Alex let out a snort of laughter. “Sorry, I forget you’re one of the few that would actually understand that part of it.”

“It just sucks that someone else had to deal with it too. And it sucks that it was because we’re gay—or, well, I’m gay, and she’s bi but out on a date with a woman.”

Alex felt the last bit of hostility toward Maggie slipping away at the realization that she was most upset about having exposed someone else to a harsh reality. “I heard they’re bringing in someone to talk to her. And she’s got all the other women there to help too.”

“I hope so.” Maggie’s voice was muffled by her arm.

“And, you know, I’m here for you too. If you want someone.”

Maggie looked up at Alex, unshed tears sparkling in her eyes. “Thank you.”

Settling onto the bed next to Maggie, Alex held out a spoon and the carton of ice cream. “Your favorite.”

“You or the ice cream?”

Alex could feel warmth blooming across her chest and hoped Maggie wouldn’t look over to notice it. “Mm, see why they picked you to be the bachelorette.”

“I, uh…I wasn’t always the kind of person whose coworkers would see me and be like oh yeah, she’d love the chance at hooking up with 25 different women.”

“I know, I know. You said it’s for the money.”

“No. I mean, yes, it is. But”—Maggie shook her head, pausing as she dug her spoon into the ice cream—“there was a reason they thought I’d like this kind of thing when they submitted my name.”

“Oh?”

“I, uh, I’d been in a relationship for a long time. Five years, actually.”

“Wow.”

“Yep.” Maggie nodded, shoving her spoon through the still rather frozen ice cream until she had enough to call it a mouthful. “I, uh, it’s a long story. But I ended up cheating on her at the end of it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I’m not proud of it or anything. It’s just—whatever, I could offer you all the excuses in the world about how much we were fighting and how clear it was that we weren’t working anymore or how even in our good moments it always seemed too good to be true, like…like I didn’t deserve her or happiness or whatever.”

“Everyone deserves a chance at happiness, Maggie.”

Maggie shrugged, her gaze trained on the ice cream. “Anyway, she, uh, said a lot of things at the end that sort of confirmed all my fears about myself. And I kind of…spiraled. I don’t know. If I don’t deserve to be happy in something like a committed relationship, why not go be happy in all the fleeting ways I could find, right?”

“Hence the 25 women being a good thing?”

“Little bit.”

Alex let out a loud exhale. “I get that. Or, well, not quite that. But the idea of not letting yourself be happy? I get it.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s…there were always other people or things to worry about. And if they were okay, that was what mattered. I was already—it’s not like—other people deserved to come first.”

“It’s your life, though. If anyone should get to put you first, it’s you.”

Alex shrugged. “Not so simple, though, is it?”

Maggie’s thoughts appeared to wander elsewhere as she fell silent for a long minute. “No…guess not.”

“But there was a thing with my sister a year or two ago and…well, I’m trying. I’m trying to put myself first a little bit more and let myself find happiness or whatever that means.”

“Yeah? What’s that mean for Alex Danvers?”

Alex fell silent as she thought about the question, reaching out for the ice cream and trying a mouthful. Her nose scrunched up. “Not that.”

“Shut up.”

With a laugh, Alex took another spoonful. “Fine. It’s not the worst thing ever.” She paused, the mood turning contemplative. “But I don’t know exactly. Not yet. I mean, I’ve tried dating a little more. I bought myself a new motorcycle. Trying to make some of my work friends into real friends—like, the kind you get drinks with on weekends, not just when the day’s gone on for too long to think about doing anything more than cheap beer and greasy food.”

“How’s it working out for ya?”

“Eh.” Alex dug at the ice cream with her spoon. “It’s…a work in progress. New motorcycle is great. Think I’ve maybe got a friend or two now.”

Maggie nodded her head in understanding. “And the dating?”

“I think I’m hard to date.”

“I doubt it.”

“Everyone who’s tried to date me seems to think so.”

“Maybe you’re trying to date the wrong people, then,” Maggie whispered.

And suddenly Alex realized how very close they were sitting, how very warm Maggie’s skin seemed, how big Maggie’s eyes seemed looking up at her, how soft Maggie’s lips looked and oh god, she really shouldn’t be looking there. “I—it’s not,” Alex stammered. “You’re still in charming bachelorette mode. You have to say that.”

“Do not.”

“Do so.”

“You’re not a contestant.”

“Exactly. So you don’t have to…flatter me or whatever.”

“It’s just honesty. I’m happier sprawled out on your floor talking to you than I am on any of those fancy romantic dates.”

Alex tried to ignore how Maggie’s words left her heart hammering in her chest. “I’m sure it would be different if there were cameras here.”

Maggie paused to consider it, taking another mouthful of ice cream before shaking her head, the spoon still poking out from between her lips. “No. No, I think you get me. I think you make me happy without even trying to do it.”

Alex fell silent. She found herself acutely aware of her body, of its proximity to Maggie’s, of the way the angle at which her knee was placed might be construed as awkward by an outside observer. Suddenly all of her joints felt wrong, like they were too angular, like maybe she needed to fix them and adjust them, but that carried the risk of making Maggie aware of her again.

“Sorry,” Maggie muttered. “I didn’t—I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“What? No! No, it’s not like—that’s not it.”

“Oh?”

“I just…I don’t meet many people I like. And you, uh, well”—Alex ran her hands through her short hair, laughing softly—“you were no exception at the beginning.”

Maggie snorted. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“But you—I’ve gotten to see a new side of you. And I, well, I like the person I’ve gotten to know.”

“Thanks.”

“Guess you should probably go to bed, huh?”

“Probably. Big day of on-screen emotional processing ahead of me.”

“Right.”

Maggie lingered at the foot of Alex’s bed before turning to leave. “Night, Danvers.”

“Night, Sawyer.”

\---

The next morning, Alex stood in front of her hamper, sniffing at a few different shirts, trying to find one that smelled the least like it had already been worn. She probably should have used their early night to do laundry, but she wasn’t about to leave Maggie shaken when she could be there for her—as a friend, Alex reminded herself.

A soft knock startled Alex, and she threw the button up in her hands on over her tank top, not bothering to button it closed before pulling open the door.

“Maggie?”

“Can I come in?” Maggie was slightly breathless, her hands clenching and unclenching as she waited.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Excuse the mess.”

“It’s fine.” Maggie kicked the door shut behind her.

“You okay?”

“Yeah? Or, well, no. Maybe. I just—we talked about trying to be happy, about deserving to be happy. And then I was thinking about what does make me happy or what could maybe make me happy. And then I was up all night thinking about it.”

“Okay…”

“And, well, you make me happy, Alex.” Maggie took a shuddering breath before looking up at Alex. “Spending time with you makes me happy. Talking to you makes me happy. Listening to you talk about yourself and your family makes me happy. Just…just being next to you makes me happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

“I don’t—what are you—”

Maggie stepped closer, pausing a few inches away from Alex. One hand came up and pushed a lock of Alex’s hair back and out of her eyes. “I like you, Alex. I don’t—this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen here. But I really, really like you. And I’d really like to kiss you if that—if it’s something you want too.”

Alex hesitated long enough to watch Maggie’s expression fall, to see her stepping back, leaving Alex cold. But then, reason be damned, Alex was stepping forward and catching hold of Maggie’s wrist and drawing her back in. And then they were kissing, and Alex made herself stop thinking about all the ways this could—would go wrong and let herself enjoy the feeling of Maggie’s lips on hers, the warm hand cupping at her jaw and drawing her in closer.

The beep of Alex’s phone forced them apart.

“I, uh, we should probably…”

“Look.” Maggie placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “I still have to play the game, you get that, right?”

“I…I do.” Even as she said it, Alex could feel her heart cracking a little.

“But I promise: my heart is with you. Two more weeks: that’s all that’s left.”

“I can wait two more weeks.”

Maggie nodded, pressing one more soft kiss to Alex’s lips before pulling back, a smile stretching across her face.

\---

Alex watched as Maggie tilted her head to the side at the sight of what awaited her in wardrobe. “A bikini?” Alex bit back her own reaction to thoughts about exactly how good Maggie would probably look in said bikini.

“Yeah, hon,” Debby confirmed. “You didn’t think they were gonna send you to the beach in a one piece, did ya?”

“Beach…”

 _Fuck_. Alex forgot about the travel. Or maybe some part of her thought the producers would be reasonable enough to move things to the on-set pool for security after the incident the day before. But of course that would be too easy.

“Last big group date before you pick your final four for the fantasy suites.” Debby looked at Maggie as though, perhaps, she was a little dense.

Alex’s heart clenched at the mention of the suites and everything she had read they typically entailed. Maggie, for her part, continued to look confused as she parroted the words back at Debby. “Fantasy suites…”

“You hittin’ the booze this early?”

“I, um, no.” Maggie still looked a little dazed, even as she stepped further into the trailer.

At the very least, Alex was pleased to find that apparently she had the same effect on Maggie as Maggie did on her. Which wasn’t good. Because she was supposed to be security. And security guards needed to be on the lookout at all times. Alert. Ready for action. God, Alex was ready for action. But of a rather different kind. Her gaze drifted to the tiny black bikini again.  _Fuck_.

Debby’s voice broke Alex out of her increasingly inappropriate musings. “Alright, well, we’ve gotta get you camera ready.”

It turned out that getting Maggie camera ready involved a lot of exfoliating and shaving and tweezing and moisturizing, though Alex turned her back and stood watch at the door to the trailer for all of that. She was fairly certain at some point glitter was being applied—at least based on Maggie’s comments about it being like a “pride parade shower.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed as Maggie groaned, “The Miss Congeniality treatment, really?”

Debby chuckled. “Don’t need the whole world to see your butt, do ya? Let’s save that for the lucky four girls.” Alex just barely bit back a growl of jealousy, reminding herself that only hours before she’d been agreeing to the fact that Maggie still needed to play by the show’s rules, to stay in the competition and get the final payout that would make all this time off worth it.

Alex spun around at Maggie’s high-pitched yelp, one hand already dropping to the holster on her hip, only to find Debby’s hands inside of Maggie’s bikini top. Maggie spluttered and blushed until Debby pulled back with a nod of satisfaction at the suddenly much more…generous cleavage than Maggie normally had. Not that Alex paid any attention to Maggie’s cleavage. Not at all.

From there, Debby threw a gauzy white t-shirt on Maggie and handed over a pair of Daisy Dukes that Alex thought probably shouldn’t count as shorts when they were more revealing than half of her underwear. But then Maggie was being shuttled off to get her hair done, and Alex was made to wait outside—Staci being significantly less willing to have Alex “intrude” on her space.

Maggie emerged nearly an hour later with what Staci called “beachy waves” and enough waterproof makeup to last a lifetime.

Siobhan was already there and waiting, directing Maggie to the front lawn of the main house where she’d be greeting the remaining girls and walking them down to the limo.

Alex trotted behind, catching lines from Siobhan about wanting to “bump it up to a PG-13 this week” and “make sure Sara got a little more one-on-one time,” since she was becoming a “fan-favorite.” Alex suspected it probably had more to do with the long blonde hair and the abs than anything else.

Eventually they made it to the front lawn, where the cameras and the host Alex had come to despise were already in position. Maggie staged a leisurely stroll down the path to the front door, ringing the bell as though they didn’t all know there was a line of eager contestants waiting half a step away from her on the other side. Some impossibly corny lines about a beach vacation followed with just enough innuendo tossed in to keep people hooked. Alex tried not to gag.

The urge didn’t leave her through the entire drive to the beach, during which time she was forced to sit up front to keep the shot “clean” and listen to dumb flirty comments about how good they all thought Maggie would look in a bikini. Sure, it was well-founded speculation because, god, Maggie  _did_  look good in a bikini, but none of it made Alex feel better.

The first half-hour of filming was spent getting some up-close shots of the contestants vying for Maggie’s attention and asking her to apply sunblock. Two lucky girls got to experience Maggie’s warm hands massaging lotion into their back with the intermittent interruptions from various production assistants calling instructions like, “Dip a little lower!” or “Get a close up of Lana’s face here.”

Alex tried not to pay attention to it, looking at the girls who’d been left to their own devices for sun safety. She narrowed her eyes at two who had seemed all too happy to be left on their own—Sara and Ally? Ava? Amy?—taking turns on their stomachs and giggling in whispers too low for Alex to make out. She wondered if romance really had blossomed on set after all.

What followed was the most contrived movie montage of “sexy beach fun” Alex could possibly imagine. There was the obligatory “sporty” bit with some beach volleyball, followed by splashing in the surf and shots of Maggie canoodling with one of the contestants beneath an umbrella, hands traveling to places that left Alex’s stomach in knots.

On one of the short filming breaks, Jess grabbed Maggie during her security check-in with Alex. “Your pick, but we’d love a shot of you and one of the girls out in the water. And if things get a little heated, well…you know you get a bonus if we beat our show ratings.”

“Right.” Maggie nodded, the tension in her jaw obvious, even after Jess left.

“Hey, I—I get it. You do what you have to do,” Alex murmured, gesturing around them as if she had security concerns about the semi-private beach that had been emptied of all other people by the rest of their security team half an hour prior to their arrival.

“No, I, um, I know you do. We agreed and all.”

“So then don’t worry about me. Two weeks. It’s not like we’re, you know…a couple or whatever.”

“Yeah, no, that’s not actually…” Maggie took in a deep breath, finally blurting out, “I’m scared of the ocean.”

“What?” Alex tried to hide her laughter behind her hand.

“I’m from Nebraska! Then I lived in Gotham! And it’s not like I’m about to go swimming in the National City Bay.”

Alex grimaced at the memory of some of the nastier finds they’d made there. “Fair enough.”

“I can swim, but, you know, like…in a pool.”

“How about this? I promise: you give even the slightest yell or wave of your arms, I’ll come save you myself.”

“You won’t make me wait for him?” Maggie gestured with her thumb at the hunky lifeguard Alex suspected they’d pulled off a past season of the show. She wondered if he could even swim, or if he’d be willing to risk messing up the perfect sheen of baby oil he’d meticulously applied before they started filming.

“Promise. I’ll be there before you know it. And you know what…I think I have some security suggestions for them.”

Before Maggie could ask, Alex was jogging over to Siobhan, who was resting in the shade of one of the trailers some of the crew members had driven down to the outskirts of the beach.

“Is something wrong?”

“I was just thinking, I know you want shots of Maggie out in the ocean with some of the contestants”—she ignored Siobhan’s grimace at her word choice—“but if we could keep her as close as possible to shore, that’d be great. If anything were to happen, I need to be able to get to them fast enough to keep everyone safe.” Sensing Siobhan’s hesitation, Alex shrugged. “God only knows what might have happened if I weren’t able to be as close as I was at the vineyard.”

“Right, right.” Alex swore she could see Siobhan calculating the risks before her very eyes. “We’ll find a way to make it work.”

“Thank you,” Maggie mouthed at Alex, tuning back in to hear whatever Siobhan needed her to do next.

Alex did a lap of the perimeter while they got everyone back in the position to resume their totally natural, not at all forced version of reality. She never thought she’d be disappointed by a lack of threats, but then again, she also hadn’t expected exactly how PG-13 the ocean make-out would be. Only the sounds of some of the other girls venting to the cameras helped her tamp down on her own jealousy; she didn’t need to sound like them. She knew Maggie liked her—actually liked her—and Maggie had said that Alex made her happy, which had to mean something.

They broke for lunch after filming a few confessionals, though Alex found she had no appetite, thoughts of some random woman’s leg hooking around Maggie’s waist a little too fresh in her memory for her to try stomaching food.

Instead, she did a few laps around the beach again, stumbling upon Jess and Siobhan in the midst of a heated argument.

“You had one job to do!” Siobhan barked.

“How the hell was I supposed to know he’d get food poisoning?”

“Then you get a back up! You have some contingency plan so that we don’t waste a whole day of filming with no surprises to show for it.”

“Look, I’ll call around, find a few people—”

“It’s too late. By the time you get someone out here, we’re gonna be losing sun.”

“You don’t know—”

“Don’t even think about finishing that statement. You’ll be lucky if you have a job when today’s over.”

Once Siobhan had stormed off, Alex sidled up to Jess. “Hey, you, uh, you okay?”

Jess let out a slow exhale. “Not really. Nothing particularly fun about maybe losing a job.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“You’re pretty decent, Danvers. But unless you know a reasonably attractive surfing instructor who can be here in the next half hour, I’m probably fucked.”

Alex hesitated, digging the tips of her converse into the sand. “I, uh, I used to teach surfing.”

“What?”

“I surf. Grew up on the beach. Used to teach for some extra cash during the summers.”

Jess looked Alex up and down. “You might just do… You sure you don’t mind?”

“What? Short surfing lesson? Yeah, that’s fine.”

It was only after Jess had started jogging back to Siobhan that the realization struck Alex. “Wait! Jess! Jess, this is off-screen, right? Jess!”

As it turned out, it was not off-screen—something made abundantly obvious under Siobhan’s scrutiny and the tsking and huffing of the wardrobe, hair, and makeup teams.

“I—I don’t—maybe we could just do it as a behind the scenes kinda deal,” Alex suggested, already regretting her decision.

“No, no, we have wetsuits in your size,” Siobhan muttered, as if that had been Alex’s biggest worry.

“Yeah, but, you know, wouldn’t it seem, um…sexier if Maggie already knew how to surf?”

“No. We always have a scene of our bachelors or bachelorettes—whatever—learning how to do something new.” She didn’t even look up from her phone, tapping away at the screen. “Good experience. Audiences like it. Makes them seem relatable.”

Alex grimaced as a wetsuit and a bikini were thrown at her.

“You’ll be paid extra for it, don’t worry,” Jess murmured.

“Not really my concern here,” Alex grumbled.

But then she was in the trailer half-convinced someone was about to rip the door open and find her bare-assed and bent over trying to wrestle her way into a bikini and wetsuit—a task easier said than done when she was still sweating from a long day out in the hot sun and too much anxiety about her impending blast to temporary stardom. She barely had time to adjust the legs of the suit before someone was knocking on the door insisting she needed to have her hair and makeup done, as if she wasn’t about to dive into the ocean.

Several minutes, one grumbling acquiescence from Alex, and a reminder to put the other security guards on high alert later, Siobhan paraded Alex out in front of the group. “Girls! We’ve got a surprise for you.”

Maggie’s jaw dropped as she realized that Alex was the one standing next to Siobhan.

“Today you’re going to be getting some surfing lessons!”

“From Alex?” Maggie squawked.

Alex tried to puzzle out the expression, not quite paying attention as Siobhan explained, a hint of frustration in her tone, that there had been a slight change of plans.

Several minutes later, a few of the PAs came out with a selection of surfboards, and Alex tried to be heard over the chatter as she yelled about finding boards that were the easiest to paddle and catch waves on, gesturing at some of the longboards and finally, with a roll of her eyes, reaching in and pulling away a few of the fancy options that she knew wouldn’t work.

“You go out and catch some first—we want a reel of footage to choose from,” Siobhan instructed Alex, gesturing at the ocean with a flick of her wrist.

Grumbling about poor surfing conditions and tiny waves, Alex grabbed a board that seemed the closest to her baby that still lived back in Midvale. She trudged down the beach, trying to get out of her head. It didn’t matter that it wouldn’t be her greatest ride. It didn’t matter that people on live television could see her out there. It didn’t matter that Maggie Sawyer and a bunch of women that would happily push her aside and take her place were staring at her from the shoreline. What mattered was attaching the leash to her ankle, paddling out far enough to have a chance at a decent ride, and waiting—Siobhan’s calls to “hurry” be damned.

The first two waves she caught were mediocre at best, though they still earned her a round of applause and some wolf-whistles and winks, which, fine, okay, maybe she could get used to that. The third one that rolled in actually looked like a wave worth riding, and Alex let herself forget the crowds entirely, falling into the easy, familiar rhythm, letting her body react in time with her instincts, with the swell of water beneath and around her.

Even Siobhan clapped politely after that one.

A few waves later, the producers called her back onto shore, zooming in on Alex’s face as she shook her wet hair out of her eyes, raking her fingers through it.

“Now go, do your coaching thing,” Siobhan called distractedly over her shoulder, already pulling her phone up to her ear to deal with some pressing matter.

“Um.” Alex surveyed the group. She’d never had this many students—at least not students who’d never been on a surfboard before. “Well, uh, first thing I normally do with beginners is”—Alex’s eyes darted to the camera as it came nearer to her face—“um, if you could put your boards down on the ground.”

“Don’t look at the camera,” one of the men barked at her.

Easier said than done, Alex thought.

“Alright, uh, see the leash—er, the thing that goes around your foot?”

The group nodded up at her.

“Whatever your dominant hand is, go ahead and attach the leash to the foot on that side. That’ll be your back foot, okay?”

Alex ignored the way Siobhan was circling her hand, trying to get her to speed it up.

“Now if you want to lay down on your board here, we’ll, um, practice getting up.”

“We want them in the water!” Siobhan yelled.

“Not yet,” Alex called back, earning a few astounded looks from the girls, who would never dream of yelling at Siobhan. “Alright, so, yeah, it’s easier to practice getting up when you’re on land. Watch me, okay?” Alex took turns demonstrating how to get up—once jumping straight to her feet, and the other time getting up on her knees first.

Maggie was the first to start trying to imitate Alex, and the rest of the group followed shortly thereafter. Alex went around correcting form, moving hands to the board from the edges and nudging their stances to be better centered or to get their legs a little less far apart.

“Can we get them out in the water now?” Jess asked as Alex stepped away from Sara.

“Fine. But I’m just gonna have them paddling for now, I hope she gets that.”

“Can you at least get Maggie and maybe one of the girls to try standing?”

Alex snorted. “You good with them falling?”

“Even better.”

With a shrug, Alex turned back to the group. “Alright, grab your boards, we’re heading out into the white water.” Dropping her voice to a whisper, Alex turned to Maggie: “It’s only waist deep, okay? I’ll be right there.”

Eventually Alex got them all paddling around, calling out instructions about how to cut through the waves and trying not to laugh when a few of them inevitably turned, letting the waves carry them most of the way back to shore before they quite realized what was happening.

“It’s like a push up on the board to keep your face out of the spray,” Alex yelled, smiling despite herself as the majority of the women learned to laugh at themselves instead of getting upset as salty water splashed them, messing up their hair and makeup.

“You told me you could swim, not that you could surf, Danvers,” Maggie whispered, having managed to paddle over to within a few inches of Alex. Her breath was hot against the chill of the water clinging to Alex’s hair and neck, and Alex couldn’t help the shiver that ran through her. When she looked up, she found Maggie’s eyes dark, her lower lip pulled between her teeth, and her gaze dragging up and down the length of Alex’s torso.

“Oh, I, uh, you know,” Alex hedged, feeling her cheeks warming under the weight of Maggie’s attention. It was only the intrusion of one of the crew members nearing them, camera hefted high above his shoulder, that broke them apart.

“Right, um, you could try sitting on your boards if you want—you can turn toward the shore, and then we wait for a wave.” Thinking back to the last time she taught anyone, Alex tried to remember the lessons she left them with. “Oh! If you’re gonna try a wave, call it out. For now, let’s go one at a time, yeah? And you can stick with your knees. Um…oh, and if you feel like you’re gonna fall, just jump away from the board, toward the ocean. Try to cover your face if you can, then pull the board back toward you with the leash so it doesn’t hit anyone else. Any questions?”

“Can we see you do it again?” Maggie yelled, a cheeky smile pulling up the corners of her mouth and putting her dimples on full display.

And even though Alex knew it wouldn’t help them much, she couldn’t resist showing off for Maggie, paddling out a little further and waiting until a decent wave began swelling behind her.

As she neared the shore, she heard Siobhan yelling, “Eyes on the girls, Sawyer!”

By the time the sun was setting, the crew had footage of everyone paddling and a few people falling and two of the girls actually managing to stay on their knees for part of a wave at the very least, plus plenty of shots of Maggie wrapping her arms around the ones who’d gotten dunked under the surf as if she had played the hero instead of panicking about watching her biggest fears play out in front of her.

They blasted the heat in the limo on the way back, and everyone huddled for warmth, their wet hair dripping down the backs of skimpy sundresses that had seemed like a wonderful idea in the bright sunshine of the morning but now did little to help.

Alex was grateful when someone from the crew ordered a whole stack of greasy pizzas. It wouldn’t make the second-to-last rose ceremony go any faster, but it would at least make her feel a little bit better about being stuck there. She and some of the other security guards took turns relieving each other to eat without having to dodge cameras and mics with every bite. Alex tried to quell the surge of hurt as the cameras zoomed in on Maggie slipping back into the party from some secluded area with Sara, their hands tangled together. She already knew Siobhan had been pushing for Sara to win—or at least make it to the final two—but she didn’t really want to think about what was going on behind closed doors.

The night seemed to drag on with every single contestant getting a confessional moment to drone on and on about how hard she was falling for Maggie and how gorgeous Maggie was and how perfect she and Maggie would be together. It made Alex want to puke.

Eventually the smarmy host made his presence known, and the cameras panned to the four red roses. Even though Alex knew better now than to expect that the final few minutes of the episode would actually be filmed in a few minutes, it meant that she was one step closer to getting back to her room, back to her bed, maybe even back to Maggie…

Eventually they managed to eliminate four of the contestants including Jesse, who Alex had learned was that season’s “too good for this” candidate—the genuinely good person who taught little kids and volunteered in shelters and spoke in a quiet voice with no bleeping ever required as she complimented the competition. There were tears and goodbyes and more hugs than seemed reasonable, and Alex couldn’t help but notice that almost everyone seemed to be swaying on their feet, barely staying upright. She wondered if it had more to do with the long day or the drinks constantly being passed their way.

As soon as Maggie was released, Alex walked her back to her house, barely making it through the door before Maggie’s breath was hot on her ear. “You were so fucking hot today, Alex.”

“And you’re drunk on champagne that costs more than my leather jackets,” Alex whispered, gently nudging Maggie a few inches away.

“I’m tired.”

“Yeah, I bet. Long day of swimming and making out with pretty girls on the beach.”

“You were the prettiest,” Maggie mumbled, her words starting to slur together.

“Mhmm, let’s get you something to eat before you go to bed, okay?”

“I’m serious, ’s true.”

Alex ignored the continued compliments as she fished out a couple of freezer waffles, dropping them into the toaster for Maggie before pouring her a glass of water. “Drink.”

“Though ya said I did too much of that,” Maggie giggled, taking the glass anyway and sipping messily at it, water dribbling over her chin.

“Did they even give you dinner?”

Maggie shrugged. “Kinda.”

Alex pursed her lips, biting back angry retorts about all the unethical practices the show engaged in for the sake of drama. Now wasn’t the time. Instead she sat with Maggie while she ate her waffles and got her another glass of water and nudged a trash can close to the edge of her bed just in case.

\---

The next several days brought Alex, Maggie, the four remaining girls, and the crew down to Turks and Caicos for fancy dates and nights with the possibility of winding up in the fantasy suite. Alex and Maggie barely saw each other, consumed as Maggie’s days were with wardrobe and confessionals and long dates and romantic dinners and feeding each other dessert on the balcony.

Alex’s heart sank when Maggie took her first date to the fantasy suite, but the next morning she overheard Siobhan complaining about there being nothing but talking. Alex wondered idly whether the people who always seemed to think they had a right to ask lesbians how they had sex would start demanding cameras behind that door. Or maybe they’d go ahead and assume it was all kissing and talking and slumber parties.

The next two nights, Maggie sent her dates home without inviting them up, a decision that seemed to annoy the producers.

The fourth night, Maggie brought Sara back up to the fantasy suite and finally gave the producers the entertainment they’d been waiting for with theatrically loud moaning—loud enough to be caught on tape—and orders for room service to be delivered and a tousled head of hair poking out from behind the door to grab the chocolate-covered strawberries and a giggling early morning goodbye complete with kisses and wandering hands.

Alex avoided Maggie the entire flight to California. When they got back, she cleared the house and called it an early night, shutting her door with a resounding click. She ignored Maggie when she came knocking.

The next morning, Maggie showed up again, knocking until Alex couldn’t ignore it any longer. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Alex.”

“Look…I get it. You said you needed to play the game. I didn’t know that you’d play along quite as much as you did.”

Maggie furrowed her brow in confusion before her mouth dropped open. “No! Didn’t you… I thought you knew. No, Alex, just let me explain.”

“I get it. They put pressure on you. You did enough to get more cash out of the deal. Whatever. I just—I can’t be okay with it. I can’t pretend like I don’t like you enough to be hurt by this.”

“No! Alex, no, it’s not what you think.”

“Stop with the excuses.” Alex ground her teeth and rubbed at her face. “I should have known better. That’s all there is to it.”

Maggie’s featured hardened into a stony glare. “Fine. Make all the assumptions you want, Danvers.”

“I was there, Maggie! It’s not an assumption when I was outside the fucking door!”

“Whatever you need to say to excuse not listening to my side of the story.”

They marched out to the front lawn in silence, and Alex left Maggie with the producers and a few of the other security guards, grunting out that she’d be back soon and ignoring the confused looks she got in return. She took a long lap of the perimeter, taking solace in the familiarity of the routine. She picked up a cup of coffee and a donut from craft services, breaking all of her own rules about not eating sugar in the morning.

The day itself was easy enough. Maggie spent hours with the four women still left at the house, and with the contained setting, Alex was able to rotate on and off with the other guards. She berated herself all day for going and falling for the kind of person that went on reality television shows and hooked up with dozens of women and pretended like it was all for love.

That night, at another cocktail party, Maggie sent home two more women, then followed Alex back to the house in silence. They parted without a word.

The next day was much the same—another easy day of rotations for Alex while the producers prepared whatever fresh hell surely awaited the remaining two women. Maybe now they’d have to duel for Maggie’s affections. Or all go shack up in one room and figure out who emerged victorious. Or bribe Maggie with more of the stupid trinkets they’d presented her with at the beginning to try to prove their love to a woman they’d never even met.

The day ended with a round of meetings between Maggie and the production team, and Alex barely had time to react when Maggie flung open the door, storming back up the hill to her house.

“Wait!” Alex barked as she caught up with Maggie.

“What do you care?”

“It’s my job. Thought you of all people would get that.”

“Whatever. Go do it then.”

Anger simmered just below the surface as Alex traipsed the rest of the way to the door, then cleared all the rooms. “You’re fine.”

“Kay.”

Once Maggie had stormed upstairs, Alex let herself into her room, taking a long, hot shower to try to rinse away some of the stress of the past few days. It didn’t work, but at least someone else was footing her water bill. Once she had dried off, she pulled on her favorite pair of old, worn sweatpants and a soft t-shirt she’d stolen from Kara during one of their last sister nights before she left, then padded downstairs to the kitchen, rummaging around in the freezer for something other than Maggie’s vegan ice cream.

By the time Alex made it back upstairs with a box of Chocos that she’d come to like from years working long cases at J’onn’s side, she wanted nothing more than to curl up with her chocolate cookies and her blanket and watch a few episodes of something mindless in her room. Instead, she caught the sounds of choked back sobs coming from behind Maggie’s door. She hesitated, deliberating.

When the sobs didn’t stop, she forced herself to turn toward Maggie. Because, despite all that had followed, she  _had_  come to care for Maggie, and she wasn’t about to leave her alone when it sounded like she needed someone—even if that someone was only a friend.

Alex knocked softly.

Maggie grew silent.

Alex knocked again, clearing her throat and whispering, “Maggie?”

“What?” Maggie sounded congested, her voice hoarse, and it broke Alex’s heart a little.

“Do you want to talk?”

“That’s not your job.”

“C’mon.” A long pause. “I have cookies…”

Alex heard a snuffle, followed by the shuffling of feet. Finally the door cracked open, and Maggie stood there in ratty old boxer shorts and an oversized NCPD t-shirt, her nose red and tears still glimmering on her cheeks. “What kind?”

A smile tugged at the corners of Alex’s mouth. “Chocos.”

Maggie reached for them, but Alex pulled back. “I’m not leaving you alone with my cookies when you’re this upset.”

“Why? Afraid they’ll all be gone before you get a chance.”

“A little.” Alex shrugged. “Also because I kind of think you could use someone to talk to now.”

“Not here.”

Alex let herself be guided down the hallway to her room—to the room that had once become a kind of sanctuary where a casual intimacy between them had grown and evolved into feelings that ran so much deeper than Alex had let herself acknowledge until it was already too late. 

Swallowing her anger, Alex kicked the door shut behind them. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Why would you want to know?” Maggie asked, a hiccup interrupting her words. “You just want to yell at me.”

“Seriously?” Alex felt the pity dry up as anger roared back to life. “I didn’t go fuck someone else while you listened from 10 feet away. I didn’t try to belittle your feelings and act like you just didn’t get it.”

“That’s not what I did! You won’t listen to me.”

“What am I doing now?”

“You’re yelling at me! Again!”

“Fine,” Alex huffed, perching on the edge of the bed. “I’m listening.”

“Whatever.”

“Maggie,” Alex whined. “This is exactly what you said you wanted me to do, and dammit, I’m trying. I’m trying, but you have to get that this is hard for me. I’m—it wasn’t easy to—I don’t like this, okay?”

Maggie picked at a loose thread on the hem of her boxers. “I didn’t sleep with her.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

“That’s the goddam point now, isn’t it?” Alex could feel her jaw drop as betrayal washed over her. But then Maggie was backtracking, waving her hands and looking panicked. “Shit, no, sorry! Not for you. I meant for the producers.” Maggie grabbed one of the cookies out of the pack and stuffed it into her mouth in one bite. When she started talking again, Alex didn’t point out that her front teeth were lined in black cookie dust. She counted it as a tiny bit of payback: humiliation for both of them this way. “They were giving me shit about not giving them good television, you know? Saying I hadn’t been cooperating, wasn’t the person they saw on the audition tape who was off having one-night stands or whatever.”

“Okay.”

“But I didn’t want to go sleep with some random woman for the sake of ratings. Not”—Maggie took a deep breath, her gaze falling to Alex’s lap—“not when I had a chance at something real.”

“But you did it anyway.”

Maggie shook her head, her tone turning vehement. “No. I didn’t.”

“Then what—”

“I made a deal with Sara. We faked it.” The three small words burst over Alex like a bomb, shattering all the convictions that had been fueling her anger ever since the trip. “She’s gonna be one that I choose at the end.”

Alex blinked, trying to wrap her head around this new reality where Maggie hadn’t kissed her and told her she liked her and told her she made her happy and then run off and slept with someone else. A flutter of hope made her want to leave it at that and wrap Maggie in her arms and kiss her, but there were still so many questions. “But Sara…she came here for a reason. She has no problems with going along with some lie that kind of screws her over at the end of it?”

“Considering she and Ava have pretty much fallen head over heels for each other, I think she gets it.”

“Huh.” Alex thought back to the day at the beach, scraps of information fitting themselves together into a new narrative. “I was right about those two.”

“You caught it too?”

Alex hummed in agreement. “Or at least I figured maybe they were hiding from the cameras and making out or something.”

“Oh they’ve definitely done that,” Maggie laughed. “I figured it out a little while ago—it’s why I keep choosing her to sneak off with. Things only had to happen if a camera was on us.”

“So you didn’t…”

“No, Alex.” Maggie shook her head, her expression falling. “I know…I get why you assumed that’s what happened, but I’d like to think you’ve realized I’m not that kind of person. At least not now.”

“I should have.” Alex’s mouth twitched, her eyes rolling up to the ceiling as she bit back tears. “It’s just…sitting outside that door and listening to all of the producers and the camera guys and all the gross shit they were saying, it—it got in my head. And I know I told you that I understood that you still needed to play the game, so then I was mad at myself. But I never thought it would go that far, so then I was mad at you. And then you didn’t seem the slightest bit sorry about it”—Alex held up a placating hand to preempt the explanation—“which, yeah, okay, you didn’t actually do anything that required an apology. But I didn’t know that then. And I was…well, I was jealous.”

Maggie nodded slowly, popping another cookie into her mouth. “I’m sorry. I sort of assumed that you knew or would just…get it somehow. And I figured I’d give you the full story once we got back, but then you were so angry, and you wouldn’t even listen to me, so I guess I got kind of defensive.”

Alex felt some of the tension easing out of her shoulders, and she reached over to steal a cookie from the pack. “So, um, are we…I don’t know?”

“Very articulate.”

“Shut up.”

Maggie shrugged. “I still like you. I wouldn’t have gone to all this effort if I didn’t like you enough to want to find someone to ‘choose’ at the end who wouldn’t care if I ditched them the minute filming ended.”

“Isn’t that what happens most of the time anyway?” Alex teased, though she also reached out a hand, dragging Maggie over to her on the bed.

“Please, if anyone could make love shows work, you know it’d be a bunch of gay ladies.”

With a snort, Alex shook her head. “I mean…if you’ll have me, I guess you did find someone to date on the show after all. Though I’m warning you now, if you drop to one knee in a few days, I’m gonna laugh in your face.”

“You didn’t want to extreme U-Haul it?”

The last vestiges of anger slipped away as Alex’s head dropped to Maggie’s shoulder, silent laughter shaking her torso. They sat like that for a few peaceful moments before Alex’s head popped back up. “Wait! You were crying.”

Maggie’s features twisted into a grimace. “Right. That.”

“As much as I like to think you were devastated by our mini-breakup, I’m assuming it wasn’t about me?”

“That’d be a correct assumption. For a change,” Maggie added with glare. 

“Did you, um, want to talk about it?”

Maggie let out a long exhale. “Have you ever watched the show?”

“No.”

“Right, yeah, well, I hadn’t either.” The answer made Alex like Maggie a little more. “So I’ve been learning some of this stuff on the fly. And I guess this week, I go home with these two girls—like, go meet their parents and their siblings and their pets and shit.”

“That seems…so fucked up.”

“Right? Like, hey there, extended family! Fifty-fifty odds that I’m gonna break your daughter’s heart in a few days, and if you’re watching live, maybe you heard what you thought was me banging her on television a couple of nights ago. Cheers!”

Alex cringed. “Yeah…”

“And that sucks enough, but then apparently we were supposed to go fly out to my hometown so that my family could offer their judgment on my final pick or whatever the fuck, since it’s apparently still the eighteenth century.”

“Oh yeah, I can see how that’d be awkward.”

Maggie’s face twisted in pain as she shook her head. “Considering I haven’t seen them since I was 14, I’d say it’s more than awkward.”

Alex’s eyes widened in shock. Then the memory of the sobbing hit her, things Maggie had said over the past few weeks suddenly taking on new meaning. Anger and a deep-seated rage took over. “Fourteen years old?”

Maggie let out a shuddering exhale. “Yeah.”

“Because…?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

“Pretty much. And it’s not like I can go showing up at their house with these two women. Hi, Mom and Dad! You kicked me out because I’m gay, but hey, come be on this big gay TV show with me.” She let out a derisive snort of laughter.

“I mean they wouldn’t…they can’t force you to go back.” Alex was half up and out of the bed, ready to go fight someone if she had to. She might not be able to hit the people who had done this to Maggie at 14, but she could damn well hit the people who were forcing her to relive it now. A warm hand stopped her, pulling her back to the bed.

“It’s not that. They’re not—they’re not making me go back.” Alex let herself be guided down to the mattress, tucking her feet underneath her and turning to look at Maggie. “They want to turn it into this big thing. Like some very special episode where the producers get to pretend like they care about the gays for any reason other than making money off of us.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“It is. And I don’t want—that’s not me, you know? Like, fine, whatever, the guys want to send me out on television to flirt with pretty women and make out with a few and maybe find a girlfriend in the process? Fine, it’s a ton of cash for not a big ask. But telling me I have to go spill some fucking sob story on national television isn’t the same.”

“It’s not.” Alex lifted up one of her arms, letting Maggie nestle into her side. “Is there anything we can do?”

“I don’t know.”

“I could call in a fake bomb threat.”

Maggie let out a bark of laughter. “I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.”

“What a shame.”

Maggie’s head drooped, and they sat in silence for a few minutes, fingers tangled together, their breathing slowly evening out.

Eventually Maggie spoke up again. “I don’t really want to think about this more tonight. I’ll deal with it tomorrow, but tonight? God I just don’t want to have to think about this fucking show for another minute.”

“Well…why don’t you tell me what you’d be doing if you weren’t on this show?”

“This late? I’d probably be sleeping. Or if I couldn’t sleep, I’d be watching some old reruns, trying to quiet my thoughts enough to drift off.”

“Any snacks?”

“Depends on how bad the day was.”

“Well…given today, snacks seem appropriate.”

Alex could feel Maggie nodding against her. “I’ll go get your double fudge ice cream  _and_  the jar of peanut butter if you want to pick a show and pull it up on my computer.”

“Oh my god. You’re allowed to have a computer?”

“Uh…yeah?”

“I’ve been deprived for so long now!”

“Oh, uh, yeah, go for it. Knock yourself out.”

Maggie nearly launched herself at Alex’s laptop, pausing with her hands over the keyboard. “Actually…not tonight. Fuck it. I just want to curl up with you and binge watch shitty television.”

“Sounds pretty great.”

“I mean, it’s not a luxurious date in Turks and Caicos…”

“And yet”—Alex leaned forward, dropping her hands to the bed and holding herself up a few inches away from Maggie—“I think I’m luckier than any of them.”

“Mm, and why’s that?” Maggie murmured, inching closer to Alex, their noses touching.

“Because I get to see the real you.”

“Know what else you get?” Maggie asked, her voice low.

“What?”

“If you still want to, you get to kiss me because I want to be kissing you. No cameras. No cash bonuses. Just me, kissing the only girl I really want to be kissing.”

Alex ducked her head forward at that, sighing into the soft kiss. And she knew there had been a promise of ice cream and peanut butter and Netflix, but she couldn’t quite mind when Maggie’s hands curled around the back of her neck, drawing her forward until she was crawling up the bed, laptop long forgotten.

Lying side by side, their kisses grew less hesitant, their hands shifting up sides over clothes, doing little more than exploring, getting to know a new person. It was soft and slow and gentle, and Alex’s whole body felt warm—not a heady rush of desire, but a tug of wanting and attraction and tenderness that made her curl closer to Maggie and card her fingers through Maggie’s soft hair.

By the time they pulled apart, Alex had no idea how much time had passed, but she felt more relaxed than she had in ages. Maybe ever.

“I wish I could stay here,” Maggie whispered, entwining her fingers with Alex’s and pressing a little closer.

“Me too. But it’s only a few more days now.”

“We can do a few more days. I’m sure of it.”

“Yeah? What’s got you so certain?”

Maggie smiled, her features softening as she gazed up at Alex. “Because I could feel myself falling for you for a whole lot longer than that before I let myself kiss you.”

Alex’s cheeks flushed a faint shade of pink. “Smooth talker.”

“You like it.”

“Maybe.”

Eventually they managed to untangle themselves and part ways at the door, though Alex tugged Maggie back for one final kiss before sending her to her room.

The next morning, Alex was greeted with a team of security guards and a termination letter from Siobhan, effective immediately.

“What the fuck?”

“We’re here to escort you off the premises. You’ll still be paid in full, but your services are no longer required.”

“What if there’s a threat?” Maggie yelled, having caught the comment from the hallway where she’d been trying to find the shoes she had kicked off the night before.

“You’ll have a new security detail for the last few days of travel.”

“I don’t—”

“You need to stand back,” one of the guards barked.

Another pulled Alex forward. “And you need to come with us.”

Helpless, Alex waited as one of the guards threw her belongings into her suitcase, then she found herself dragged down to the street where a car was waiting for her.

She spent the next four days waiting and not knowing. She received her full paycheck without any formal reprimands from J’onn. Maggie still had no phone or computer or any way to be contacted—not that Alex really knew how to contact her anyway.

On the fifth day, the day Siobhan planned to parade Maggie and her missing family out for America’s pity, Alex did the only thing she could think of: she texted Jess. “I don’t know what happened, but can you please let me know if everything is okay?”

It was nearly an hour before her phone buzzed against the coffee table. “Things are okay, promise. Maggie is fine (bc let’s be honest, she’s the reason you're asking).” A few minutes later, a second text came through. “And yes, that’s the reason Siobhan sent you packing. Hallway cameras. Mics. Enough time spent disappearing behind closed doors. You might not think much of these shows and the people who work for them, but you underestimated our ability to read certain situations.”

 _Fuck_. Still, Alex couldn't bring herself to apologize for her actions. If she had another chance, she’d do it all again. Instead she sent back a simple thank you and hoped that the line about Maggie’s being okay was honest.

Two nights later, Alex found herself curling up in her apartment with a box of pizza on one side of her, Kara on the other, and the season finale of the show playing on the television. She and Kara had long ago made plans to watch it together simply so that Alex could vent about all of the characters and fill Kara in on the behind the scenes drama while they caught up, but now Alex found she actually wanted to watch all two hours of it, needed to see if Maggie was okay.

Kara had been caught up on all the drama over several deep glasses of whiskey after Alex got sent home early, and after she got out the “protective sister” mode rant about how many other women Maggie had kissed along the way, she was happy enough to watch the show and support Alex—whether it was to cheer her on in her quest to go down to NCPD and try to find Maggie there since they never had exchanged numbers, or to hold her while she mourned a relationship that barely had time to get off the ground.

Maggie was still visiting Amy’s family—not that it was ever going to go anywhere, considering Maggie already knew Sara would win and then run off with Ava—when a knock sounded at Alex’s door.

Alex glared at Kara. “You ordered  _more_  takeout?”

“I did not!”

There were two more knocks—slightly louder.

“Coming,” Alex muttered to herself. A quick glance to the side was enough to confirm that she still had an old bat by the door in case, but when she looked through the peephole, any kind of weaponry was promptly forgotten. She fumbled the chain lock in her haste to get the damn door unlocked, finally yanking it open. “Maggie.”

Kara’s head darted up and she peered away from the screen to find the very woman she’d been watching standing mere feet away from her—not that she’d noticed Kara yet.

“Hope you don’t mind, Jess gave me your address.”

“No! No, I, uh, please come in. And, um, Excuse the mess.”

Kara tried to chew as quietly as she could while she watched

“I don’t…maybe it was dumb to come running the second they turned off the cameras and let us leave, but I’m here now. I’m here, and it’s just me—no Siobhan or Sara or film crews or fancy dates. Just…just me. And I guess I wanted to see if that was enough, if I was enough.”

Alex answered with a kiss, sweeping Maggie into her arms and pouring every ounce of emotion into it, letting her lips voice the resounding yes—the yes, of course you’re enough, you’ve always been enough—that she couldn’t quite manage to get out yet.

The photo Kara captured of the first dramatic kiss would later be the one used to announce on social media via the CatCo Magazine’s Instagram account that former Bachelorette Maggie Sawyer was now dating the dashing vineyard hero and one-time surfing instructor Alex Danvers, but they’d wait until after a few long weeks of covert dates spent in hole-in-the-wall restaurants and dive bars and the sanctuary of Alex’s apartment—not that either of them particularly minded being forced to spend hours upon hours in Alex’s bed. Sara and Ava would go public about their relationship during the “girls tell all” episode, and no one would ever resolve the ongoing speculation about whether or not it had all been planned somehow. Once the next season of the show started, Maggie would be allowed to fade back into anonymity, recognized every so often but never hounded the way some of the later seasons’ stars were. It would, however, earn her engagement to Alex a free write-up in  _The Tribune_ —the first and only time Kara would write for that section of the paper. Eventually Alex and Maggie would venture back to Turks and Caicos to make better memories there, though not until their five-year anniversary, and Alex ensured that unlike last time, every noise that might echo down the hallway was genuine.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Tumblr @sapphicscholarwrites and Twitter @sapphicscholar if you ever want to talk Sanvers. As always, comments give me life and make me write faster (maybe...no scientists have tested the validity of that claim, but they DO make me smile)


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